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Eight Cousins by Louisa M. Alcott

L >> Louisa M. Alcott >> Eight Cousins

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"You sew them on?" cried Rose, with her eyes wide open in
amazement.

"Wait a bit till I get my sewing tackle, and then you shall see what
I can do."

"Can he, really?" asked Rose of Aunt Peace, as Uncle Alec
marched off with a comical air of importance.

"Oh, yes, I taught him years ago, before he went to sea; and I
suppose he has had to do things for himself, more or less, ever
since; so he has kept his hand in."

He evidently had, for he was soon back with a funny little
work-bag, out of which he produced a thimble without a top; and,
having threaded his needle, he proceeded to sew on the buttons so
handily that Rose was much impressed and amused.

"I wonder if there is anything in the world that you cannot do," she
said, in a tone of respectful admiration.

"There are one or two things that I am not up to yet," he answered,
with a laugh in the corner of his eye, as he waxed his thread with a
flourish.

"I should like to know what?"

"Bread and button-holes, ma'am."



Chapter 17 - Good Bargains

It was a rainy Sunday afternoon, and four boys were trying to
spend it quietly in the "liberry," as Jamie called the room devoted
to books and boys, at Aunt Jessie's. Will and Geordie were
sprawling on the sofa, deep in the adventures of the scapegraces
and ragamuffins whose histories are now the fashion. Archie
lounged in the easy chair, surrounded by newspapers; Charlie
stood upon the rug, in an Englishman's favourite attitude, and, I
regret to say, both were smoking cigars.

"It is my opinion that this day will never come to an end," said
Prince, with a yawn that nearly rent him asunder.

"Read and improve your mind, my son," answered Archie, peering
solemnly over the paper behind which he had been dozing.

"Don't you preach, parson, but put on your boots and come out for
a tramp, instead of mulling over the fire like a granny."

"No, thank you, tramps in an easterly storm don't strike me as
amusing." There Archie stopped and held up his hand, for a
pleasant voice was heard saying outside

"Are the boys in the library, auntie?"

"Yes, dear, and longing for sunshine; so run in and make it for
them," answered Mrs. Jessie.

"It's Rose," and Archie threw his cigar into the fire.

"What's that for?" asked Charlie.

"Gentlemen don't smoke before ladies."

"True; but I'm not going to waste my weed," and Prince poked his
into the empty inkstand that served them for an ash tray.

A gentle tap at the door was answered by a chorus of "Come in,"
and Rose appeared, looking blooming and breezy with the chilly
air.

"If I disturb you, say so, and I'll go away," she began, pausing on
the threshold with modest hesitation, for something in the elder
boys' faces excited her curiosity.

"You never disturb us, cousin," said the smokers, while the readers
tore themselves from the heroes of the bar-room and gutter long
enough to nod affably to their guest.

As Rose bent to warm her hands, one end of Archie's cigar stuck
out of the ashes, smoking furiously and smelling strongly.

"Oh, you bad boys, how could you do it, to-day of all days?" she
said reproachfully.

"Where's the harm?" asked Archie.

"You know as well as I do; your mother doesn't like it, and it's a
bad habit, for it wastes money and does you no good."

"Fiddlesticks! every man smokes, even Uncle Alec, whom you
think so perfect," began Charlie, in his teasing way.

"No, he doesn't! He has given it up, and I know why," cried Rose
eagerly.

"Now I think of it, I haven't seen the old meerschaum since he
came home. Did he stop it on our account?" asked Archie.

"Yes," and Rose told the little scene on the seashore in the
camping-out time.

Archie seemed much impressed, and said manfully, "He won't
have done that in vain so far as I'm concerned. I don't care a pin
about smoking, so can give it up as easy as not, and I promise you I
will. I only do it now and then for fun."

"You too?" and Rose looked up at the bonny Prince, who never
looked less bonny than at that moment, for he had resumed his
cigar just to torment her.

Now Charlie cared as little as Archie about smoking, but it would
not do to yield too soon: so he shook his head, gave a great puff,
and said loftily

"You women are always asking us to give up harmless little things
just because you don't approve of them. How would you like it if
we did the same by you, miss?"

"If I did harmful or silly things, I'd thank you for telling me of
them, and I'd try to mend my ways," answered Rose heartily.

"Well, now, we'll see if you mean what you say. I'll give up
smoking to please you, if you will give up something to please
me," said Prince, seeing a good chance to lord it over the weaker
vessel at small cost to himself.

"I'll agree if it is as foolish as cigars."

"Oh, it's ever so much sillier."

"Then I promise; what is it?" and Rose quite trembled with anxiety
to know which of her pet habits or possessions she must lose.

"Give up your ear-rings," and Charlie laughed wickedly, sure that
she would never hold to that bargain.

Rose uttered a cry and clapped both hands to her ears where the
gold rings hung.

"Oh, Charlie, wouldn't anything else do as well? I've been through
so much teasing and trouble, I do want to enjoy my pretty
ear-rings, for I can wear them now."

"Wear as many as you like, and I'll smoke in peace," returned this
bad boy.

"Will nothing else satisfy you?" imploringly.

"Nothing," sternly.

Rose stood silent for a minute, thinking of something Aunt Jessie
once said "You have more influence over the boys than you know;
use it for their good, and I shall thank you all my life." Here was a
chance to do some good by sacrificing a little vanity of her own.
She felt it was right to do it, yet found it very hard, and asked
wistfully

"Do you mean never wear them, Charlie?"

"Never, unless you want me to smoke."

"I never do."

"Then clinch the bargain."

He had no idea she would do it, and was much surprised when she
took the dear rings from her ears, with a quick gesture, and held
them out to him, saying, in a tone that made the colour come up to
his brown cheek, it was so full of sweet good will

"I care more for my cousins than for my ear-rings, so I promise,
and I'll keep my word."

"For shame, Prince! let her wear her little danglers if she likes, and
don't bargain about doing what you know is right," cried Archie,
coming out of his grove of newspapers with an indignant bounce.

But Rose was bent on showing her aunt that she could use her
influence for the boys' good, and said steadily

"It is fair, and I want it to be so, then you will believe I'm in
earnest. Here, each of you wear one of these on your watch-guard
to remind you. I shall not forget, because very soon I cannot wear
ear-rings if I want to."

As she spoke, Rose offered a little ring to each cousin, and the
boys, seeing how sincere she was, obeyed her. When the pledges
were safe, Rose stretched a hand to each, and the lads gave hers a
hearty grip, half pleased and half ashamed of their part in the
compact.

Just at that moment Dr. Alec and Mrs. Jessie came in.

"What's this? Dancing Ladies' Triumph on Sunday?" exclaimed
Uncle Alec, surveying the trio with surprise.

"No, sir, it is the Anti-Tobacco League. Will you join?" said
Charlie, while Rose slipped away to her aunt, and Archie buried
both cigars behind the back log.

When the mystery was explained, the elders were well pleased,
and Rose received a vote of thanks, which made her feel as if she
had done a service to her country, as she had, for every boy who
grows up free from bad habits bids fair to make a good citizen.

"I wish Rose would drive a bargain with Will and Geordie also, for
I think these books are as bad for the small boys as cigars for the
large ones," said Mrs. Jessie, sitting down on the sofa between the
readers, who politely curled up their legs to make room for her.

"I thought they were all the fashion," answered Dr. Alec, settling in
the big chair with Rose.

"So is smoking, but it is harmful. The writers of these popular
stories intend to do good, I have no doubt, but it seems to me they
fail because their motto is, 'Be smart, and you will be rich,' instead
of 'Be honest, and you will be happy.' I do not judge hastily, Alec,
for I have read a dozen, at least, of these stories, and, with much
that is attractive to boys, I find a great deal to condemn in them,
and other parents say the same when I ask them."

"Now, Mum, that's too bad! I like 'em tip-top. This one is a regular
screamer," cried Will.

"They're bully books, and I'd like to know where's the harm,"
added Geordie.

"You have just shown us one of the chief evils, and that is slang,"
answered their mother quickly.

"Must have it, ma'am. If these chaps talked all right, there'd be no
fun in 'em," protested Will.

"A boot-black mustn't use good grammar, and a newsboy must
swear a little, or he wouldn't be natural," explained Geordie, both
boys ready to fight gallantly for their favourites.

"But my sons are neither boot-blacks nor newsboys, and I object to
hearing them use such words as 'screamer,' 'bully,' and 'buster.' In
fact, I fail to see the advantage of writing books about such people
unless it is done in a very different way. I cannot think they will
help to refine the ragamuffins if they read them, and I'm sure they
can do no good to the better class of boys, who through these
books are introduced to police courts, counterfeiters' dens,
gambling houses, drinking saloons, and all sorts of low life."

"Some of them are about first-rate boys, mother; and they go to sea
and study, and sail round the world, having great larks all the
way."

"I have read about them, Geordie, and though they are better than
the others, I am not satisfied with these optical delusions, as I call
them. Now, I put it to you, boys, is it natural for lads from fifteen
to eighteen to command ships, defeat pirates, outwit smugglers,
and so cover themselves with glory, that Admiral Farragut invites
them to dinner, saying, 'Noble boy, you are an honour to your
country!' Or, if the hero is in the army, he has hair-breadth escapes
and adventures enough in one small volume to turn his hair white,
and in the end he goes to Washington at the express desire of the
President or Commander-in-chief to be promoted to no end of stars
and bars. Even if the hero is merely an honest boy trying to get his
living, he is not permitted to do so in a natural way, by hard work
and years of patient effort, but is suddenly adopted by a millionaire
whose pocket-book he has returned; or a rich uncle appears from
sea just in the nick of time; or the remarkable boy earns a few
dollars, speculates in pea-nuts or neckties, and grows rich so
rapidly that Sinbad in the diamond valley is a pauper compared to
him. Isn't it so, boys?"

"Well, the fellows in these books are mighty lucky, and very smart,
I must say," answered Will, surveying an illustration on the open
page before him, where a small but virtuous youth is upsetting a
tipsy giant in a bar-room, and under it the elegant inscription,
"Dick Dauntless punches the head of Sam Soaker."

"It gives boys such wrong ideas of life and business; shows them
so much evil and vulgarity that they need not know about, and
makes the one success worth having a fortune, a lord's daughter, or
some worldly honour, often not worth the time it takes to win. It
does seem to me that some one might write stories that should be
lively, natural and helpful tales in which the English should be
good, the morals pure, and the characters such as we can love in
spite of the faults that all may have. I can't bear to see such crowds
of eager little fellows at the libraries reading such trash; weak,
when it is not wicked, and totally unfit to feed the hungry minds
that feast on it for want of something better. There! my lecture is
done; now I should like to hear what you gentlemen have to say,"
and Aunt Jessie subsided with a pretty flush on the face that was
full of motherly anxiety for her boys.

"Tom Brown just suits mother, and me too, so I wish Mr. Hughes
would write another story as good," said Archie.

"You don't find things of this sort in Tom Brown; yet these books
are all in the Sunday-school libraries" and Mrs. Jessie read the
following paragraph from the book she had taken from Will's hand

" 'In this place we saw a tooth of John the Baptist. Ben said he
could see locust and wild honey sticking to it. I couldn't. Perhaps
John used a piece of the true cross for a tooth-pick.' "

"A larky sort of a boy says that, Mum, and we skip the parts where
they describe what they saw in the different countries," cried Will.

"And those descriptions, taken mostly from guidebooks, I fancy,
are the only parts of any real worth. The scrapes of the bad boys
make up the rest of the story, and it is for those you read these
books, I think," answered his mother, stroking back the hair off the
honest little face that looked rather abashed at this true statement
of the case.

"Anyway, mother, the ship part is useful, for we learn how to sail
her, and by and by that will all come handy when we go to sea,"
put in Geordie.

"Indeed, then you can explain this manoeuvre to me, of course," and
Mrs. Jessie read from another page the following nautical
paragraph

"The wind is south-south-west, and we can have her up four points
closer to the wind, and still be six points off the wind. As she luffs
up we shall man the fore and main sheets, slack on the weather,
and haul on the lee braces."

"I guess I could, if I wasn't afraid of uncle. He knows so much
more than I do, he'd laugh," began Geordie, evidently puzzled by
the question.

"Ho, you know you can't, so why make believe? We don't
understand half of the sea lingo, Mum, and I dare say it's all
wrong," cried Will, suddenly going over to the enemy, to Geordie's
great disgust.

"I do wish the boys wouldn't talk to me as if I was a ship," said
Rose, bringing forward a private grievance. "Coming home from
church this morning, the wind blew me about, and Will called out,
right in the street, 'Brail up the foresail, and take in the flying-jib,
that will ease her.' "

The boys shouted at the plaintive tone in which Rose repeated the
words that offended her, and Will vainly endeavoured to explain
that he only meant to tell her to wrap her cloak closer, and tie a
veil over the tempest-tossed feathers in her hat.

"To tell the truth, if the boys must have slang, I can bear the 'sea
lingo,' as Will calls it, better than the other. It afflicts me less to
hear my sons talk about 'brailing up the foresail' than doing as they
'darn please,' and 'cut your cable' is decidedly preferable to 'let her
rip.' I once made a rule that I would have no slang in the house. I
give it up now, for I cannot keep it; but I will not have rubbishy
books; so, Archie, please send these two after your cigars."

Mrs. Jessie held both the small boys fast with an arm round each
neck, and when she took this base advantage of them they could
only squirm with dismay. "Yes, right behind the back log," she
continued, energetically. "There, my hearties (you like sea slang,
so I'll give you a bit) now, I want you to promise not to read any
more stuff for a month, and I'll agree to supply you with
wholesome fare."

"Oh, mother, not a single one?" cried Will.

"Couldn't we just finish those?" pleaded Geordie.

"The boys threw away half-smoked cigars; and your books must go
after them. Surely you would not be outdone by the 'old fellows,' as
you call them, or be less obedient to little Mum than they were to
Rose."

"Course not! Come on, Geordie," and Will took the vow like a
hero. His brother sighed and obeyed, but privately resolved to
finish his story the minute the month was over.

"You have laid out a hard task for yourself, Jessie, in trying to
provide good reading for boys who have been living on sensation
stories. It will be like going from raspberry tarts to plain bread and
butter; but you will probably save them from a bilious fever," said
Dr. Alec, much amused at the proceedings.

"I remember hearing grandpa say that a love for good books was
one of the best safeguards a man could have," began Archie,
staring thoughtfully at the fine library before him.

"Yes, but there's no time to read nowadays; a fellow has to keep
scratching round to make money or he's nobody," cut in Charlie,
trying to look worldly-wise.

"This love of money is the curse of America, and for the sake of it
men will sell honour and honesty, till we don't know whom to
trust, and it is only a genius like Agassiz who dares to say, 'I cannot
waste my time in getting rich,' " said Mrs. Jessie sadly.

"Do you want us to be poor, mother?" asked Archie, wondering.

"No, dear, and you never need be, while you can use your hands;
but I am afraid of this thirst for wealth, and the temptations it
brings. O, my boys! I tremble for the time when I must let you go,
because I think it would break my heart to have you fail as so
many fail. It would be far easier to see you dead if it could be said
of you as of Sumner 'No man dared offer him a bribe.' "

Mrs. Jessie was so earnest in her motherly anxiety that her voice
faltered over the last words, and she hugged the yellow heads
closer in her arms, as if she feared to let them leave that safe
harbour for the great sea where so many little boats go down. The
younger lads nestled closer to her, and Archie said, in his quiet,
resolute way

"I cannot promise to be an Agassiz or a Sumner, mother; but I do
promise to be an honest man, please God."

"Then I'm satisfied!" and holding fast the hand he gave her, she
sealed his promise with a kiss that had all a mother's hope and
faith in it.

"I don't see how they ever can be bad, she is so fond and proud of
them," whispered Rose, quite touched by the little scene.

"You must help her make them what they should be. You have
begun already, and when I see those rings where they are, my girl
is prettier in my sight than if the biggest diamonds that ever
twinkled shone in her ears," answered Dr. Alec, looking at her
with approving eyes.

"I'm so glad you think I can do anything, for I perfectly ache to be
useful; everyone is so good to me, especially Aunt Jessie."

"I think you are in a fair way to pay your debts, Rosy, for when
girls give up their little vanities, and boys their small vices, and try
to strengthen each other in well-doing, matters are going as they
ought. Work away, my dear, and help their mother keep these sons
fit friends for an innocent creature like yourself; they will be the
manlier men for it, I can assure you."



Chapter 18 - Fashion and Physiology

"Please, sir, I guess you'd better step up right away, or it will be too
late, for I heard Miss Rose say she knew you wouldn't like it, and
she'd never dare to let you see her."

Phebe said this as she popped her head into the study, where Dr.
Alec sat reading a new book.

"They are at it, are they?" he said, looking up quickly, and giving
himself a shake, as if ready for a battle of some sort.

"Yes, sir, as hard as they can talk, and Miss Rose don't seem to
know what to do, for the things are ever so stylish, and she looks
elegant in 'em; though I like her best in the old ones," answered
Phebe.

"You are a girl of sense. I'll settle matters for Rosy, and you'll lend
a hand. Is everything ready in her room, and are you sure you
understand how they go?"

"Oh, yes, sir; but they are so funny! I know Miss Rose will think
it's a joke," and Phebe laughed as if something tickled her
immensely.

"Never mind what she thinks so long as she obeys. Tell her to do it
for my sake, and she will find it the best joke she ever saw. I
expect to have a tough time of it, but we'll win yet," said the
Doctor, as he marched upstairs with the book in his hand, and an
odd smile on his face.

There was such a clatter of tongues in the sewing-room that no one
heard his tap at the door, so he pushed it open and took an
observation. Aunt Plenty, Aunt Clara, and Aunt Jessie were all
absorbed in gazing at Rose, who slowly revolved between them
and the great mirror, in a full winter costume of the latest fashion.

"Bless my heart! worse even than I expected," thought the Doctor,
with an inward groan, for, to his benighted eyes, the girl looked
like a trussed fowl, and the fine new dress had neither grace,
beauty, nor fitness to recommend it.

The suit was of two peculiar shades of blue, so arranged that
patches of light and dark distracted the eye. The upper skirt was
tied so lightly back that it was impossible to take a long step, and
the under one was so loaded with plaited frills that it "wobbled" no
other word will express it ungracefully, both fore and aft. A bunch
of folds was gathered up just below the waist behind, and a great
bow rode a-top. A small jacket of the same material was adorned
with a high ruff at the back, and laid well open over the breast, to
display some lace and a locket. Heavy fringes, bows, puffs, ruffles,
and revers finished off the dress, making one's head ache to think
of the amount of work wasted, for not a single graceful line struck
the eye, and the beauty of the material was quite lost in the
profusion of ornament.

A high velvet hat, audaciously turned up in front, with a bunch of
pink roses and a sweeping plume, was cocked over one ear, and,
with her curls braided into a club at the back of her neck, Rose's
head looked more like that of a dashing young cavalier than a
modest little girl's. High-heeled boots tilted her well forward, a
tiny muff pinioned her arms, and a spotted veil, tied so closely
over her face that her eyelashes were rumpled by it, gave the last
touch of absurdity to her appearance.

"Now she looks like other girls, and as I like to see her," Mrs.
Clara was saying, with an air of great satisfaction.

"She does look like a fashionable young lady, but somehow I miss
my little Rose, for children dressed like children in my day,"
answered Aunt Plenty, peering through her glasses with a troubled
look, for she could not imagine the creature before her ever sitting
in her lap, running to wait upon her, or making the house gay with
a child's blithe presence.

"Things have changed since your day, Aunt, and it takes time to
get used to new ways. But you, Jessie, surely like this costume
better than the dowdy things Rose has been wearing all summer.
Now, be honest, and own you do," said Mrs. Clara, bent on being
praised for her work.

"Well, dear to be quite honest, then, I think it is frightful,"
answered Mrs. Jessie, with a candour that caused revolving Rose
to stop in dismay.

"Hear, hear," cried a deep voice, and with a general start the ladies
became aware that the enemy was among them.

Rose blushed up to her hat brim, and stood, looking, as she felt,
like a fool, while Mrs. Clara hastened to explain.

"Of course, I don't expect you to like it, Alec, but I don't consider
you a judge of what is proper and becoming for a young lady.
Therefore, I have taken the liberty of providing a pretty street suit
for Rose. She need not wear it if you object, for I know we
promised to let you do what you liked with the poor dear for a
year."

"It is a street costume, is it?" asked the Doctor, mildly. "Do you
know, I never should have guessed that it was meant for winter
weather and brisk locomotion. Take a turn, Rosy, and let me see
all its beauties and advantages."

Rose tried to walk off with her usual free tread, but the under-skirt
got in her way, the over-skirt was so tight she could not take a long
step, and her boots made it impossible to carry herself perfectly
erect.

"I haven't got used to it yet," she said, petulantly, kicking at her
train, as she turned to toddle back again.

"Suppose a mad dog or a runaway horse was after you, could you
get out of the way without upsetting, Colonel," asked the Doctor,
with a twinkle in the eyes that were fixed on the rakish hat.

"Don't think I could, but I'll try," and Rose made a rush across the
room. Her boot-heels caught on a rug, several strings broke, her
hat tipped over her eyes, and she plunged promiscuously into a
chair, where she sat laughing so infectiously that all but Mrs. Clara
joined in her mirth.

"I should say that a walking suit in which one could not walk, and
a winter suit which exposes the throat, head, and feet to cold and
damp, was rather a failure, Clara, especially as it has no beauty to
reconcile one to its utter unfitness," said Dr. Alec, as he helped
Rose undo her veil, adding, in a low tone, "Nice thing for the eyes;
you'll soon see spots when it's off as well as when it's on, and, by
and by, be a case for an oculist."

"No beauty!" cried Mrs. Clara, warmly, "Now, that is just a man's
blindness. This is the best of silk and camel's hair, real ostrich
feathers, and an expensive ermine muff. What could be in better
taste, or more proper for a young girl?"

"I'll shew you, if Rose will go to her room and oblige me by
putting on what she finds there," answered the Doctor, with
unexpected readiness.

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A Stephen King fan has published an 80-page version of the book which novelist Jack Torrance obsessively writes during King's The Shining, where his descent into madness is revealed when his wife discovers that his work consists of just one phrase, endlessly repeated.

Torrance, played by Jack Nicholson in terrifying form in Stanley Kubrick's 1980 film, is a frustrated writer who goes with his wife and son to spend the winter in the isolated Overlook Hotel in an attempt to get the novel he has always wanted to write started. But the hotel's grisly past and unquiet ghosts have their way with him, and his wife Wendy eventually finds that the manuscript he has been working on actually only contains the phrase "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy", typed over and over again.

Now New York artist Phil Buehler, who describes himself as "a big fan of Stanley Kubrick and Stephen King", has self-published a book credited to Torrance, repeating the phrase throughout but formatting each page differently, using the words to create different shapes from zigzags to spirals.

"The idea has probably been marinating for years, because I loved the movie and the Stephen King book," said Buehler. "I'd just finished my own obsessive art project [and] it was an idea I had over the Christmas holidays."

He said he decided to stick to type and formatting that could have been created on a typewriter, with the first ten pages duplicating shots of Torrance's work from the film. "I thought 'if he continues to get crazier, what would those pages look like?'" he said. "I hit writer's block about 60 pages in, and I had to get to 80 - that went on for about a week." His fiancée, who had neither read the book nor seen the film, became a little concerned about his actions. "I finally showed her the movie, and she realised I wasn't really losing it," said Buehler.

He's included a spoof review from the blog OverThinkingIt.com on the book's back jacket, which compares it to "the best of Beckett" in its "lack of forward momentum", and considers the struggles of the author, "heroically pitting himself against the Sisyphusean sentence". "It's that metatextual struggle of Man vs. Typewriter that gives this book its spellbinding power," the review says. "Some will dismiss it as simplistic; that's like dismissing a Pollack canvas as mere splatters of paint."

So far, Buehler says that around 1,000 people have viewed the book, for sale on Blurb.com for $8.95 in paperback, or $22.95 in hardback, and he's sold "a few" copies, with sales now starting to pick up steam. "A few people have asked me to sign it - they're looking it as a piece of art rather than a funny thing to give to a Kubrick fan," he said. "If you're not a Kubrick or King fan, you might not even get it."

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